


Christmas at the Potters'

by Caspian28



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Shifting Lines - DovahTobi
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Angst, Marauders, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Marauders Friendship (Harry Potter), POV Sirius Black, Sirius Black & James Potter Friendship, Sirius Black Gets a Hug, Sirius Black Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:20:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28308903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caspian28/pseuds/Caspian28
Summary: Sirius Black spends his first Christmas after running away from home at the Potter's. It just might be a little more overwhelming than he expects.Characterization and some worldbuilding loosely based on how everything is portrayed in Shifting Lines by DovahTobiPrompt: One or more characters end up crying on Christmas day. Why?Part of the SL Server winter writing challenge <3
Comments: 14
Kudos: 29
Collections: SL Discord Writing Events





	Christmas at the Potters'

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DovahTobi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DovahTobi/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Shifting Lines - Book Two](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23003809) by [DovahTobi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DovahTobi/pseuds/DovahTobi). 



Sirius Black had never spent a holiday away from his family before. Other than small stints at the Potters during the summer hols, he was expected to be home to entertain guests – as one should, as the heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Or the Noble and Most Ancient House of Shite, as he preferred to call it.

Of course, that was Reg’s job, now. Not his. Not since he had shown up on the Potter’s doorstep, bloody and disowned during the summer. They had taken him in, of course. Peter had come to visit, too. Moony hadn’t, and had offered no explanation for it, which was something Sirius had tried hard not to feel hurt about when they had gotten back to school.

Still, no matter how many times the Potters told him that their house was his now, he couldn’t help but feel like an intruder in their space. He had hardly even dared to hope for an invite for Christmas, and he didn’t really get one, either.

It was the last week of term. The Marauders had all been together in the common room. Sirius had been feeling jittery and uncomfortable, like his skin was crawling. When James had asked what was wrong, Sirius had tried to chalk it up to the lack of pranks they had pulled recently. He wasn’t sure if James had believed him, but the other boy hadn't pushed. Still, it had shocked him when James had turned to him and said, “Want to split on gifts for Mum and Dad? We can owl order and bring it home with us. It’ll make up for the Christmas Day prank I planned for us to pull.”

He had looked and Sirius with a wicked grin, and Sirius hand’t been able to respond for a moment – not until Remus had elbowed him in the side. He had managed to squeak a wavering “Sure,” out of his mouth and Remus had looked at him as if _he knew_ what was going on in Sirus’ mind. Before he could panic too much, though, Peter had turned to James to ask “Well, what’s the prank, then?” And thankfully James had only given Sirius a slightly confused look before launching into a detailed explanation that he had only half heard.

The full moon had happened after, and Sirius had become so consumed with worry for Remus that he had hardly even remembered to be shocked or gratified or nervous until James had sprung Christmas on him once again. “Mum gets everyone in the family their own ornament for the Christmas tree every year,” he had said to Sirius while they were visiting Remus in the Hospital Wing. Remus was bent over a book while Peter, James, and Sirius were talking. They had all been trying to avoid the secret at the tips of their tongues – that they were almost successful, almost had a way to help Remus during the moons, were so, so close. But they couldn’t say it yet, so they were talking about anything else.

“She what?” Sirius had squeaked back to James.

“She gets everyone an ornament, every year. My first year of Hogwarts she got me a hat like the Sorting Hat. Second year she got me a broom because I made the Quidditch team. Silly stuff like that, you know? Anyways, she wanted me to ask you if you’d prefer a lion for Gryffindor, or a Potter crest with your name in it. All the Potter babies get a crest like that for their first Christmas. On the tree we have mine of course, my dads, my grandad’s-”

James was rambling, looking at him with such bright eyes but all Sirius could think at the moment was, _I don’t deserve to be part of their family like that_. Still, he couldn’t say that to James, felt like it would hurt him even though he wasn’t sure how. Of course they were as good as brothers, but this was different – he was worthless, not even his own family wanted him. Why would the Potters?

“Maybe she can get him both,” Remus had said when Sirius failed to respond. His tawny eyes were focused on Sirius because _of course_ he understood what Sirius was feeling, _of course_ he could read Sirius’ fears.

But then Peter had piped up, too. “Yeah! Doesn’t she have like, fifteen years of ornaments to catch Sirius up to you?”

And then Sirius wanted to cry, but he didn’t because he couldn’t – because his best friend was in the Hospital Wing after ravaging himself during the full moon, because James was being so _welcoming_ and Peter was being so _nice_ and how was he supposed to tell them he didn’t deserve any of it?

The next time it wasn’t James who had surprised him with talk of Christmas at the Potters, but Remus. They were in the dorm, just the two of them. Remus had been sitting on his bed, laughing as Sirius scrambled to last minute pack before they left that afternoon. Peter and James were both serving detention for something-or-other that Sirius had probably already served a detention for or was going to serve a detention for.

“Must be nice to go to the Potters,” Remus had said in a moment of quiet. “I bet their Christmases are extravagant.”

“Don’t think so,” Sirius had responded, trying to quell the panic that occurred in his stomach anytime anyone brought up the holiday.

“I’m sure nothing compared to Black family Christmases,” Remus had said then, a teasing note in his voice. Sirius was struck with the urge to be sick, but swallowed down the feeling. Remus didn’t know what it was like, couldn’t know. He couldn’t handle Remus thinking of him as different – as _weak_. So instead he looked into the gold eyes of his best friend and smiled.

“No,” he had said. “We always hosted gatherings for other families. Mingling and cocktails and fancy shite like that.”

“I can’t imagine Christmas being more people than just my family,” Remus had said with a shrug.

“I can’t imagine having Christmas with just my family,” Sirius had quipped back, to which Remus had responded, “Well, this year you’ll know what it’s like,” which had forced Sirius to look away so Remus didn’t see tears brimming in his eyes.

Sirius forced it down, of course. He was grateful for his friends, grateful for everything the Potters were doing for him, pleased that he had somewhere to go that wasn’t his horrid house with his shite family and his pathetic brother who he loved and hated in equal measures. But still, he didn’t deserve it – didn’t deserve to be James’ family, didn’t deserve the love of James’ parents or the way they had taken him in without question. He would disappoint them. He always did.

Then they were on the train home – _to James’ house_ – and Remus and Peter were with them and they were promising to exchange letters even if they knew Remus would hardly write back and they were pretending everything was okay even when Sirius felt like he was dying inside and James was clearly worried. Even when Peter gave him an extra tight hug before they departed the platform, even when he could read his own fear back in Remus’ eyes, because Remus knew – of course he knew.

And then they were at James’ house and his parents were giving them tight hugs and Sirius felt so overwhelmed he wanted to crawl out of his skin. And then he was in his room that the Potters had given him with all his stuff how he left it, as if they had never gone everything even though he knew that couldn’t be true because the cardinal rule of parents was that _they went through your stuff when you weren’t around to defend yourself_. But James had given him such a funny look when he had mentioned how pristine his room had been left.

“Of course no one’s touched it,” he had said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s your stuff.”

And then he had nearly forgotten, as the week had progressed, that they thought he was anything more than a guest; had hoped they had forgotten, too. He and James played more Quidditch outside than was probably healthy, ate more cookies that Mrs Potter baked than was probably safe, and stirred up more mischief than was probably advisable. But the Potters didn’t mind – they just laughed fondly and Mr Potter would even give them pointers for how to improve their pranks.

So he didn’t mind, either, when James had woken him in the dark hours of Christmas morning for Operation Upside-Down Christmas. It was exhilirating, actually, as they stole into the Potters’ sitting room and cast spell after spell that lit the room up like Christmas lights until the tree was dangling from the ceiling, ornaments and all. The presents were affixed to the roof beside it with a variant of the Permanent Sticking Charm that would time out in approximately twenty-four hours, so everyone would have to climb up to the ceiling to open their gifts. And of course, upon exiting the room, they drew upon one of their oldest tricks and turned the floor into ice.

They were woken early the next morning by Mrs Potters shrieks, but when they had finally careened downstairs in their pyjamas they found her and Mr Potter, in the sitting room, _on ice skates_.

“Well done boys,” Mr Potter boomed as they skidded to a halt at the doorway. He even summoned them skates, although Sirius had never actually ice-skated before and had to cling to James to stay upright.

Even Mrs Potter looked at them with a glint in her eye. “I hadn’t finished wrapping all your presents, so I brought some down this morning.” Sirius could see a disappointed frown forming on James’ face, but he was cut off by his mother. “I thought I’d attach them to the ceiling, too, although I’m not sure what spell you used – I couldn’t get yours down. They _will_ come off, right?” She eyed the boys carefully and Sirius felt a grin growing on his face before he could think any better of it.

“They will,” Sirius said. James had begun laughing too hard to answer – Mr Potter had just fallen backwards and was now lying dazed on the ice. Mrs Potter was tactfully ignoring his pleas for help. “We might have to unwrap them from the ceiling, though.” He said it with a laugh – but the laugh was cut from his throat when he glanced up to realize the sheer _number_ of gifts that were now affixed to the ceiling. Surely they weren’t all for himself and James. Surely the Potters had other family members, friends, even, who were coming later that day or that week to exchange gifts. Surely there weren’t that many for him.

Once Mr Potter had restored the sitting room floor back to its usual hardwood and Mrs Potter had brought hot cocoa in from the kitchens they had begun to open their gifts. To do this, Mr Potter conjured a ladder decorated in Christmas lights and mistletoe, so the gift receiver could climb up to open. James had complained about wanting to use his broom, but Mrs Potter gave him a stern look and told him under no uncertain terms was he allowed to fly a broom in the house. So he agreed to climb the ladder like the rest of them. He and James had together gotten Mrs Potter a scarf that was enchanted to change colours based on the outfit the wearer had on. When she opened it, Mr Potter dolefully exclaimed that he wished someone had gotten him such a thoughtful gift, but of _course_ no one got men scarves, which had made James giggle and promise to get him one for his birthday. He was rightfully impressed when he opened his gift from the boys, though – a mirror that complemented the owner no matter what they looked like and insulted anyone else. Mrs Potter promptly banned it from their bedroom. Sirius was feeling – happy, almost, for the first holiday in a long time.

But then it came turn for the boys to open their presents and Sirius was overwhelmed once again. Mr Potter had conjured a second ladder so the two boys could open their gifts at the same time, which Sirius was grateful for. Opening them with everyone’s eyes on him would absolutely have been too much for him.

Most of his gifts were small items, nearly fifty different varieties of candy and chocolate that he was sure he would mostly give to Remus and Peter because this was simply _too much_.

There were big presents, too, though. They both got a new broom – the newest Cleansweep on the market that had just hit shelves the day before Christmas. Sirius did his best to push back his discomfort, to exclaim loudly like James and make plans to go flying immediately following their gift exchange. Sirius also got some expensive looking gloves, enchanted to keep his hands at the perfect temperature no matter how cold it was outside, and an intricately woven Gryffindor tapestry.

“For your room,” Mrs Potter said when he opened it, beaming. “We thought this would make it feel more like home.”

And then it was all Sirius could do to keep from raging or crying or exploding because he didn’t deserve this. Because the Potters couldn’t be his family, couldn’t treat him like their own, or he’d disappoint them, too.

James must have seen something in his expression, because he grinned at him from across the space between their ladders. His eyes were bright and his hair even had some tinsel in it. Sirius couldn’t imagine how shocked and sad he must have looked in comparison.

“We can get you some muggle things, too,” James said to him. “Bet we can get them to take us to Muggle London before term starts again, or at least over the summer.”

“Sure,” Sirius responded, trying to keep his gaze even and hands steady.

Finally, the gift opening was done and he and James were back on the floor. Sirius had thought this was the end of Christmas traditions – that now he could escape the antsy, crawly-skin feeling by going flying with James, but of course he had forgotten something. The ornaments.

He was shaking with anxiety as Mrs Potter took out five small boxes. For herself, she had gotten a paintbrush. James whispered to him that she had taken up painting this year while the boys had been at school. For Mr Potter, a golden quill – which James explained was because his father had written an award winning potioneering paper that year. For James, an owl, to commemorate his owl years – that was obvious. And then she handed Sirius two boxes with an expectant smile on her face.

The first was a Potter crest with his name, _Sirius Black_ etched in along with the year, _1975_. The second was a lion, for Gryffindor. He managed to climb the ladder and successfully hang his ornaments upside down in the tree. It was when he got down that he collapsed into tears, too exhausted from holding it back for so many weeks to be able to stop it.

“What’s wrong?” asked James. He was the first, of course, to notice Sirius’ sniffles. But the question just made the tears come harder.

“I-” Sirius began, before choking on his tears. They were coming faster, now; sobs in great heaves that forced his chest up and down. Mrs Potter was there, suddenly, her arms coming around him and holding him tight. It simultaneously felt comforting and constricting – no one but his friends had ever hugged him before – but he couldn’t find it in him to shake her off. And then Mr Potter’s hand was on his back and James’ voice was in his ear asking him to _Just breathe, please Sirius just breathe_.

The tears slowed form a torrent into a stream, at least until Mrs Potter bent her mouth to his ear and said “I’m sorry, love, this must have been so overwhelming for you,” because then he was crying again and it was his fault, because he was a failure and a disappointment and not worth her apologies.

“I- I d-don’t deserve-” he hiccoughed between words, struck with the bizarre urge to laugh because he sounded like Remus in that moment, struggling to put words together as he was.

“Of course you do,” said Mr Potter before he could even finish. “You deserve the world, Sirius.”

“I’ll j-ju-just disapp-ppoint you,” he tried to explain. “I disappoint e-e-everyone.”

He felt Mrs Potter squeeze him tightly and finally gave into the urge to lay his head onto her shoulder. He had never felt so scared, so comforted, simultaneously. “Oh, love,” Mrs Potter said. “I can’t say you won’t ever disappoint us-” he tensed up at her words, but she kept speaking as if she hadn’t noticed. “But we’ll always love you, whether we’re disappointed in you or not.”

“Yeah,” James put in. “I disappoint them at least once a week.”

Sirius felt his body unbiddenly shake with laughter for a moment at James’ words, but then he was crying harder. “I-I’m a ho-orrid br-brother,” he hiccoughed. “You sh-shouldn’t want m-me.”

“You’re not!” James exclaimed, so vehemently it made Sirius jump. “You’re not a horrid brother, you’re the best brother I’ve ever had. And we’ve always been brothers, even when you haven’t lived with me.”

“B-but Reg.”

“That doesn’t count,” James said darkly. “Reg is shite because your parents are shite – sorry mum – not because you’re a bad brother.”

Sirius nodded numbly into Mrs Potters shoulder, felt Mr Potter give his shoulder a small squeeze before he spoke. “We are sorry if we overwhelmed you,” he said, and it took all Sirius’ control not to burst into uncontrollable tears again. “We wanted you to feel like you belonged here, because you do. As long as you’ll let us, as long as we can, we’ll be your family now.”

Sirius responded by way of a sniff, feeling as though his heart was being broken and mended all at once. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, in a huddle of Potters, until his tears had stopped and his mind was calm, but they all stood quietly with him until he felt like he could breathe again.

“Why don’t we get you some water,” Mrs Potter said, then. She disentangled herself from him and began leading him to the kitchen, James by his side and Mr Potter following them. “And we can have a quiet day today. Perhaps you boys can work on your holiday school work or do some drawing.”

Sirius exchanged a look with James through his puffy eyes. “Maybe-” he began, but paused to gather his nerve. He didn’t know how to ask for things, wasn’t used to it. “Maybe after that, James and I could go flying?”

Mrs Potter smiled down at him. “That sounds like a wonderful idea.”

Somehow, in spite of everything, it was the best Christmas that Sirius Black had ever had.


End file.
